


Possessed

by TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy



Series: Possessed [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ghost Sex, I REGRET NOTHING, M/M, inspired by a tumblr post, no really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 08:26:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15837498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy/pseuds/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy
Summary: Mycroft and Greg spend the night in a haunted house to win a bet.





	Possessed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mottlemoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottlemoth/gifts).



It was raining like it always rained on Skye. A constant, persistent drizzle, which was too light to actually reach for an umbrella, but got you soaked to the bone within minutes if you stood in it anyway. Greg didn’t mind the damp, but his companion clearly did. Mycroft stood next to him with his open umbrella, on the moor, in this remote valley, with nothing but a mere dirt path leading through the heather, barely wide enough to drive a car through it. The cold fog clouded the low hills around them, so that they seemed to stand in a grey nothingness, with only the Range Rover and this peculiar house, which was the reason and the root of all evil.

You could not even call it a house. Only if you were generous. Sure, it had the general shape, but that was were the similarities to an actual building ended. Maybe twenty (more like fifty) years ago, it would’ve been a nice place, but now it was derelict, walls fallen in, holes in the roof. Who the hell built a wooden house in this area anyway? Had they never heard of nice, sturdy stone?

Mycroft turned his head to look at Greg, after they had stood still for a few minutes, near the car, just staring. He had an eyebrow raised, daring Greg to say anything. Greg looked back to the house. It looked on the verge of collapse, but was still intact enough to shroud its interior in darkness so deep, Greg actually had chills running down his back. He locked eyes with Mycroft again, who still hadn’t moved.

“I’m never drinking with your brother again,” Greg said.

“Indeed,” Mycroft responded. “It seemed like a poor idea at the time, and I should’ve listened to my better judgement.”

“The occasion was worth it.”

Mycroft hummed. It was neither affirmative nor dismissive. Greg looked at the man again. It was absurd, really. Being here, in this deserted part of Skye, with the man he had fancied for years. If he was being frank, his willingness to enter into Sherlock’s stupid bet was only half owed to the Tequila they had drunken that night. The other half was Mycroft’s surprising agreement to the bet. A weekend together with the man had been too tempting, no matter where they were going. But now that he looked at the house again, he wasn’t all that sure anymore.

“It does look haunted, doesn’t it?” Greg asked, not daring to walk closer just yet.

“You don’t actually believe that?”

“Of course not. I mean… there’s always things you can’t explain, and…”

“Gregory, please.”

Greg was shut up immediately, and it wasn’t the embarrassment that did it, but the way Mycroft said his name. They had finally switched to calling each other by their first name after that alcohol fueled celebration, and the night that had followed. It had been a brilliant encounter, as far as Greg could remember. That had been three weeks ago. They hadn’t talked much since. But now he had a whole weekend to put things right… if he survived the night, that was.

“We could sleep in the car and tell Sherlock we were in the house.”

Mycroft shook his head. “Knowing my brother, he’s watching us through satellite surveillance this very instance. He’ll know.”

“Fuck,” Greg stared at the house again.

“Let’s at least have a look inside. If you then decide it isn’t worth it, we can always return to Portree and look for B&B,” Mycroft said. “We’ve come all this way…”

“You’re genuinely not scared?” Greg asked. “I mean… look at it!”

“Superstitious nonsense. Come on. You can hold my hand.”

Before Greg could react, Mycroft had reached out and pulled Greg’s hand into his. With the inspector in tow, he started walking towards the house, which was definitely, a hundred percent, haunted. Greg followed only reluctantly, but was so determined on holding on to Mycroft that he had no choice. The door was rotten by the constant damp, and hung partly off its hinges. The windows were curiously intact. Mycroft reached out and pushed the door away and motioned for Greg to go ahead, but he shook his head immediately.

“If you can’t even enter it, how will you spend the night?” Mycroft asked. “You know the conditions of the wager.”

“Sunset to sunrise. Yes. But I don’t think my sanity is worth fifty quid.”

“What if I tell you I’ll let you hold me all night?” Mycroft asked with a smile.

“Not fair.”

Mycroft hummed again. “Then this isn’t fair either.”

He stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss to Greg’s lips, then disappeared into the darkness. Greg was dumbfounded for a few seconds, then groaned in agony and followed the man into the house. His eyes quickly got used to the shadows and he could see that they were standing in an old kitchen. The floor was blessedly made of stone, so at least he didn’t have to fear breaking through it. The wooden roof looked less stable.

“If I die in here, I’ll haunt you,” Greg mumbled as he carefully walked through the ruined interior. “I’ll become your personal poltergeist. You’ll never get rid of me as long as you live.”

“Does that only count for ghosts, or could you make an exception while you still live?”

Greg looked up in surprise. “What do you…?”

“Come on, there’s a few more rooms.”

They cautiously picked their way through the rest of the house, which consisted of five rooms in total, all in various states of disrepair, wood rotten, pretty much all objects already covered in moss. Only the bedroom seemed curiously intact, which was probably owed to the fact that the roof was whole above it. Still, Greg couldn’t stomach the idea of spending the night in the room. Even in daylight, the whole place creeped the fuck out of him, and if Mycroft hadn’t been there, he’d run screaming for the hills a long time ago. Hell, he wouldn’t even have stepped into that fucking house in the first place.

“Okay, I’ve seen the place and determined that Sherlock can put his money where the sun don’t shine. I’m not staying here.”

“But you’ve only just arrived,” Mycroft responded, his back to Greg, looking at a half rotten drawing on the wall. “What a pity.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay, but I’m leaving. I can pick you up tomorrow morning.”

“I can’t leave this place.”

“What?” Greg asked and frowned. Mycroft sounded… different. His voice was suddenly much deeper than usual.

“I’ve been here for decades. There’s no one to play with. Don’t leave me, please. Not so soon.”

Greg opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on, when Mycroft suddenly turned. His eyes were shining in a warm orange and now that Greg could have a closer look at his face, even his skin seemed to be slightly luminescent. He swallowed. There was no way…

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice shaky with fear.

“You can call me Alexander. I’ve lived alone in this building for years, until an unfortunate accident ripped me from the world when I was still much too young. I didn’t have any family, so the place fell into ruins, but I just couldn’t let go…”

“What are you doing with Mycroft?” Greg asked.

Alexander made a show of looking down at his new body, turning his hands about, patting his clothes. Then he looked back at Greg and grinned in a way that Greg had never seen on Mycroft’s face. It was eerie, to say the least. Alexander was standing in the doorway now, blocking Greg’s exit.

“He was more receptive to me. Also I really, really need to fuck someone, and you’re more my type than he is. I--”

Alexander’s words were cut off as Mycroft’s body lurched and threw itself against the wall. Mycroft coughed and the glow faded from his body. He looked up at Greg, who had jumped to his side immediately, holding his hands.

“Tell me I didn’t imagine that just now…” Mycroft breathed.

“You remember?”

“Every word. Every feeling,” Mycroft confirmed.

“Let’s get out of here. Quickly.”

Mycroft seemed a bit dazed, but he agreed readily. Only he could go merely two steps, before his eyes glowed again and the grip around Greg’s hand tightened.

“Oh, but I’m not a threat to either of you. I just… oh god, it’s been so long. I just want someone to hold me. It’s not like it’s against this body’s wishes. I can read his mind, his feelings. He wants nothing more than to hold you down and fuck you until morning, even though he thinks it would be too much, too soon and has gallantly held himself back,” Alexander said and chuckled. “So actually it would be what you call a win-win situation for everyone.”

Greg’s face grew red as he heard the ghost talk, staring into the face that was simultaneously Mycroft and also not. He knew Mycroft could hear him, so he placed a hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes.

“Is that true, darling?” he asked.

“If I tell you he agrees, will you let me touch you?”

“You’re impatient,” Greg admonished him.

“I’ve waited forty years.”

Greg sighed deeply, then shook his head. “It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve ever done. I mean, it’s close, but…”

“Alright, less talking more fucking.”

 

Greg had to grin despite the situation, or maybe even because. Alexander pushed him backwards and they landed on the bed, which miraculously did not break as they crashed into it. Greg had briefly closed his eyes in shock, and when he opened them, he was not less surprised. The bedroom surrounding them was somehow whole again, like he’d imagined it would’ve looked before the house had fell into ruin. He reached out with his hand, and let his fingers glide over the cloth of the blanket underneath him, which felt real enough.

“As a courtesy to you,” Alexander said. “Though I can’t keep this up for long, so we’ll have to hurry.”

Before Greg formulate a response, he was somehow already half naked. The ghost had pulled off his jumper and shirt in one swift motion was already opening Greg’s trousers. Somehow Greg doubted he could get aroused in this strange situation, but then he saw Alexander strip Mycroft’s body and with every piece of creamy, white skin exposed to the cool air, his heart rate grew faster and certain parts of his anatomy were getting very interested. Oh, how he had longed to touch this man again, after that one night. And right now he’d take any opportunity he could get.

“Gregory…” he heard Mycroft breathe reverently, as their naked bodies clashed on the bed, a whisper of his real voice breaking through the possession, gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Oh god,” Greg breathed as Alexander’s lips attached themselves to his neck and started to suck. He convulsed under the hot body on top of him, erection rubbing against the man’s stomach. They immediately started rutting against each other, the air somehow charged between them, as heat flooded Greg’s chest and he felt the need of the ghost like it was his own. He moaned loudly and threw all caution to the wind.

Kissing like they were teenagers, they rolled over the bed until Greg was on top and Mycroft’s fingers were restlessly pushing into him. The cold air, which had initially been uncomfortable was now a welcome touch on his overheated skin. Both of them were already panting, grunting, giving in to their desires, just feeling and enjoying. It was not long before either of them couldn’t take it any longer and Greg sank down on Mycroft’s… or was it Alexander’s cock. It didn’t matter. It seemed like all three of them were gasping in unison as Greg was breached, and held their collective breath until he was fully seated.

Greg felt two hands stroke along his sides and leave goosebumps in their wake. As he looked down on the man, he could see Mycroft and Alexander both, and in the end he didn’t really care who it was, because he felt electrified. Soon, he was moving, both hands on Mycroft’s chest for support. He felt the other push up, into him and they settled into a frantic rhythm, chasing the sensation.

“What in the name of all that is holy?” Greg heard a voice shout and could barely see a shape, before it disappeared from the room, as quickly as it had appeared.

But there was no time to contemplate this further, as Alexander reached up and pinched his nipples, and he almost fell over, moaning his approval loud enough for the whole valley to hear.

\--

A few hundred yards away, Sherlock, ripped the spooky ghost disguise from his body - that he had specifically bought to frighten his brother and the inspector - as he stumbled back to his car and then fell face-down into the back seat. John turned around in the driver’s seat and frowned.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

**Author's Note:**

> oh god what have i done


End file.
